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Parsha Perspectives: Vaeyra-Respective Differences

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Redemption had begun but it was a slow and long process. The fury of the plagues was unleashed on Egypt and yet, Pharaoh still refused to emancipate the Jewish nation.

The Lord said to Moses, “Stretch forth your hand heavenward, and hail will be upon the entire land of Egypt, upon man and upon beast and upon all the vegetation of the field in the land of Egypt.” So, Moses stretched forth his staff heavenward, and the Lord gave forth thunder and hail, and fire came down to the earth, and the Lord rained down hail upon the land of Egypt. And there was hail, and fire flaming within the hail, very heavy, the likes of which had never been throughout the entire land of Egypt since it had become a nation.” (Exodus 9:22-24)

Rashi explains that this was miraculous hail, “it was a miracle in a miracle, fire and water were mixed together. In order to fulfill the will of their Creator, they created peace between themselves.” Hail stones comprised of opposites, fire and water rained down on Egypt. Each plague contained a message for the Egyptians and the Jews.  It was during this plague of barad (hail) that we learned the world is filled with different kinds of people. Every person has a place and every person has a purpose. The Egyptians felt that they had the right to subjugate and persecute the Jewish nation. They felt that their perceived superiority provided them with full autonomy and control over the Children of Abraham. They didn’t perceive what they were doing as evil, they understood it to be quite justifiable. The weak serve the strong, the few serve the many.  The Egyptians were the master race and therefore, had every right to do what was needed to advance their own society even if it meant exploiting another nation.

Persecution and subjugation occur when one group feels a level of superiority over another. There are no two more opposite forces than fire and water. It would be easy for fire to feel superior to try to burn up or consume water. It would be just as easy for water to feel superior and try to extinguish fire. Yet, in this plague, both fire and water recognized the greatness and importance of the other and worked together to create something miraculous. In fact, they demonstrated that neither was more important, accepted their differences  and worked togetherto sanctify the name of God.

 “The Sages in Yavne were wont to say: I who learn Torah am God’s creature and my counterpart who engages in other labor is God’s creature. My work is in the city and his work is in the field. I rise early for my work and he rises early for his work. And just as he does not presume to perform my work, so I do not presume to perform his work. Lest you say: I engage in Torah study a lot, while he only engages in Torah study a little, so I am better than he, it has already been taught: One who brings a substantial sacrifice and one who brings a meager sacrifice have equal merit,  as long as he directs his heart towards Heaven.” (Tractate Berachos 17a)

It would be easy for the Torah scholar to feel superior to the farmer. After all the Torah scholar spends his days plumbing the depths of God’s Torah and ascending to lofty levels of holiness. His soul is filled with holiness, while the farmer’s hands are filled with dirt. The scholar tills the secrets of the Talmud while the farmer simply tills the soil. Yet, the great rabbis of yesteryear understood that despite our difference we are all important. Each of us has a place, each of us has a mission and if we work together, we advance the cause of holiness and spirituality.

Society has become fractured and polarized. Too often we live with the mantra, “if you don’t share my opinions you are worthless. If you don’t subscribe to my views, political affiliations, religious doctrines, societal outlooks, then you have no value in my eyes.” The world is filled with fire and water. The water spends so much time and energy trying to extinguish the fire and the fire expends so much energy trying to consume the water. In Egypt we saw how fire and water can coexist. We saw that there is room for respect even in the midst of disagreement. We saw how opposites can come together to work towards a common goal and yet still maintain their respective differences and unique identities. When water and fire stop trying to conquer each other and begin to work together, they bring salvation just a bit closer. Let us try to find ways to build bridges with the people who are fire and water within our lives and in doing so feel the redemptive embrace of our Creator.

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Parsha Perspectives: Shemos-Extend Your Reach

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Servitude had begun. Our Egyptian hosts turned into our oppressors, bondage and slavery had replaced civility and coexistence. Pharaoh decreed, “Kol ha’beyn ha’yilod ha’yiorah tashlichu’hu (Cast every baby boy into the river).” Yocheved hid her infant son for as long as she could. After three months she could hide him no longer, and on that fateful day she fashioned a basket and set him afloat in the Nile, saying goodbye to her son forever. Then something amazing occurred.

“Pharaoh’s daughter went down to bathe, to the Nile, and her maidens were walking along the Nile, and she saw the basket in the midst of the marsh, and she sent her maidservant, and she took it.” (Exodus 2:5)

Rashi explains the phrase “she sent her maidservant” can also be interpreted to mean “she outstretched her arm.” The Talmud explains that the daughter of Pharaoh extended her arm to grab the basket, a miracle occurred, and her arm extended beyond its normal reach.

The great Chassidic master, Rav Menachem Mendel of Kotzk (1787-1859) is perplexed by this Talmudic passage. Why would Pharaoh’s daughter stretch out her arm to grab something which was clearly out of reach? A person can easily gauge what is within their reach and it appears that the basket was a significant distance away (as evidenced by the fact that a miracle was needed). Why even try to grab it? The answer is quite profound. Sometimes in life you just have to try. You just have to extend your hand and attempt to grab your goals, dreams and aspirations. There are many things in life which look “too far away.” There are many initiatives, ideas, finish lines which look out of reach. This is where our relationship with God comes in. God whispers in our ear, “Stretch out your hand, put in the effort, push yourself as hard as you can and just when you think your reach has ended, I will extend your grasp a bit more. Where your human limitations begin is where I will partner with you and extend your reach.” The daughter of Pharaoh did not know how she would reach the basket, but she knew she had to try.

Too many times in life we look at an aspiration or goal and tell ourselves, “it’s too far, it’s out of my reach, no way I can accomplish this feat, it simply looks impossible.” The truth is anything that is comfortably within reach, is usually not worth having. The very things you have to stretch and exert for are the things which infuse meaning into life. Our life mandate and mission is to dream beautiful dreams and stretch as far as we can to bring them to fruition. If the dream is truly holy and important then God will extend our reach and help us actualize our aspirations.

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Parsha Perspectives: Vayechi-The Eternal Blessing

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Yaakov Avinu was preparing for his final journey. As his life was coming to an end, he took the opportunity to speak to each of his sons, conveying to them personal and necessary messages and inspiration to guide them in the generations and millennia ahead. He began with his grandsons. He summoned Yosef, together with his sons, Menashe and Ephraim, and announced that these two grandsons will be counted amongst the tribes. And then, something peculiar occurred.

“And Joseph saw that his father was placing his right hand on Ephraim’s head, and it displeased him. So, he held up his father’s hand to remove it from upon Ephraim’s head [to place it] on Manasseh’s head. And Joseph said to his father, ‘Not so, Father, for this one is the firstborn; put your right hand on his head.’ But his father refused, and he said, ‘I know, my son, I know; he too will become a people, and he too will be great. But his younger brother will be greater than he, and his children’s fame will fill the nations.’ So, he blessed them on that day, saying, ‘With you, Israel will bless, saying, ‘May God make you like Ephraim and like Manasseh,” and he placed Ephraim before Manasseh.” (Genesis 48:17-20)

Yaakov gave dominance to the younger son, Ephraim over the older son, Menashe. Both sons would have great and righteous descendants, but Ephraim’s offspring would be greater than Menashe’s. This “change” was the byproduct of Yaakov’s prophetic vision but why declare that we should bless our children to be like Menashe and Ephraim? To this very day, when we bless our sons on Friday night, we use the exact verbiage mentioned above, “yi’simcha Elokim k’Ephraim u’k’Menashe.” Why? There are so many great men to chose from as role models for our sons. Why not bless our sons that they should be like Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov? Furthermore, we know very little about Menashe and Ephraim outside of this episode. What is the meaning of this sacred blessing we convey to our children every week?

Rav Tzvi Elimelech Shapira of Dinov (1785-1841) in his work, Igra D’Kallah, provides a beautiful insight. In that very moment when Yaakov switched his hands, he switched the familial hierarchy. In one moment, Menashe the firstborn was relegated to a “lower” position and Ephraim, the younger son was elevated to a more prominent one. One would have thought that this would cause strife and animosity between the brothers. One would have thought that Menashe would be resentful, and Ephraim would become arrogant. Yet, the brothers maintained a sense of love and respect for one another. Ephraim still maintained the proper reverence one has for an older sibling and Menashe was happy for the honor and greatness bestowed upon his younger brother. They respected and were truly happy for one another. When Yaakov saw this, he was overwhelmed. He had witnessed animosity between his own sons and viewed this as the inability for brothers to coexist and respect one another. And now as these two boys saw their respective destinies changed in a moment, they still loved and accepted one another. It was in this moment that Yaakov said, for all generations when parents comes to bless their sons, let them say, “yi’simcha Elokim k’Ephraim u’k’Menashe.”

Every parent has dreams and aspirations for their children. We want our children to be successful spiritually and materially. We want our children to be happy, content, well-adjusted and thrive. But there is one thing that every parent values more than anything – the ability for siblings to get along. This need to “get along” is not limited to our biological brothers and sisters, it applies to our national siblings, our Am Yisroel brothers and sisters as well. What is the secret to getting along with brothers and sisters? It is quite simple – be happy for the other if he succeeds, even if you don’t. Too often we are jealous and envious of the successes of the other. God gives us each what we need to grow and thrive. Someone else’s success could have never been mine. As such, one must find it in their heart to rejoice for the successes of the other. And if you are the successful one, never look down on your brother, love and respect him just the same. Having more success than someone else doesn’t make us better or superior. In order to convey this blessing to our children, we must first inculcate it within ourselves and then model it. May we bless and be blessed with the emotional strength of Ephraim and Menashe.

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Parsha Perspectives: Vayigash-Leave it in the Car

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The pain of the past Parshios dissipates this week with the startling revelation that Yosef is still alive. Yaakov has been mourning his beloved son for over two decades, only to find out that Yosef is thriving and leading in the land of Egypt. Yosef, knowing that the famine will still affect the region for several years, encourages the family to relocate to Egypt and settles them in the city of Goshen.

“He sent Judah ahead of him to Joseph, to direct him to Goshen, and they came to the land of Goshen.” (Genesis 46:28)

Yehuda was sent ahead to prepare for the arrival of the rest of the family. Rashi explains, “…to establish for him a house of study, from which teaching would emanate.” Yaakov sent Yehuda to establish a spiritual infrastructure which could support the needs of the family. Yaakov understood that to survive in the alien and sometimes hostile environment of Egypt there would have to be a spiritual system in place to support and facilitate the growth of the family in all times.

Jews around the world learn a page of Talmud each and every day, finishing the entire Babylonian Talmud every 7 ½ years. This past Wednesday we celebrated the Siyum HaShas. I was privileged to attend this incredible celebration at MetLife Stadium, accompanied by my children and members of our shiur and kehilla. But for us Baltimoreans there was a journey. Close to 2,000 men, women and children from across our community boarded buses to the event. We arrived at the bus station around 8:15am ready for the day ahead. Some brought their laptops to catch up on work, others brought books and reading material to make use of the hours of travel. We all brought food and, of course, our beloved Gemaras. Then the announcement came. The FBI had communicated that nothing could be left on the busses when arriving at the stadium. For security reasons, the busses would be swept, and we would not necessarily return on the same bus we had arrived on. Understandably this created a challenge. Items that we had brought to accompany us on the journey could not be left on the bus, nor could they be brought into the stadium.  And so, we got off the bus, returned to our cars and left behind anything which wasn’t a necessity. It was in that moment that we had to decide what was truly important and necessary. We exited the bus and left our laptops and iPads and returned with our Gemaras and food (we are Jewish). And in this very moment, I experienced an incredible revelation. There are many things we think we need to be successful, happy, content and well-adjusted. But at the end of the day, give me my Gemara and I am ready to travel wherever I need to. Torah isn’t simply a system of obligations and prohibitions. Torah is the beating heart of the Jew. Torah allows us to become the best version of ourselves, discovering who we are and what we are truly capable of. Torah allows us to create a beautiful and intimate relationship with God and chisels His image within each of us. Like Yehuda, who ventured into Egypt armed with his personal holiness, we boarded the buses leaving everything behind and carrying with us that which matters most, a Gemara in hand and an inspired soul.

To those who have finished Shas, mazal tov on your accomplishment. To those who will begin the next cycle with Maseches Berachos on Sunday morning, I know you will enjoy and feel uplifted from every daf and every word. May we use these inspiring times to remind us of the things that are truly important for a successful life journey and may we find the courage to leave the rest in the car.

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Parsha Perspectives: Chanukah-The Brightest Light

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It is not the most jarring or stirring of questions. It is in fact quite simple in nature – which comes first? On this Motzei Shabbos Chanukah (this coming Saturday night), should we make havdalah or kindle our menorah first? And while this does not rank amongst the most troubling of theological questions, the resolution will provide us a profound insight into Chanukah and into life.

Let’s begin the legal journey. The Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim Siman 681:2) writes that in shul we kindle the menorah, and then afterwards recite havdalah. The Rema (Rav Moshe Isserlis, b. 1525, Cracow, Poland) comments that at home we follow the same order. However, not everyone agrees. Rav Dovid HaLevi (b. 1586, Ludmir, Poland), in his commentary titled Turei Zahav (Taz), writes that it is interesting to note that the Talmud does not discuss this question. Therefore, in the absence of a clear halachic mandate, we follow the principle of tadir v’she’eyno tadir, tadir kodem (if you have two obligations to fulfill, one which is performed frequently while the other is not; we perform the more frequent mitzvah first). Therefore, one should recite havdalah first, since this mitzvah occurs more frequently than the kindling of the Chanukah lights. The Mishna Berurah (681:2) argues and explains that ner Chanukah should come first, as it has the element of pirsumei nisa (publicizing of a miracle).

Ner Chanukah is not the only example of a mitzvah which has an element of publicity associated with it. On Pesach, we have an obligation to drink arba kosos (four cups) of wine and recline during the seder as behavioral displays of our freedom. On Purim, we read the Megillah as a way of publicly sharing the story of our salvation from the clutches of Haman. Yet, the pirsumei nisa of Chanukah is dramatically different. The Talmud explains that in its purest form, the Chanukah lights are kindled outside by one’s doorway. One goes outside, kindles the menorah, and then returns inside. The connection and association with the menorah is limited to the time spent outdoors kindling it; the true beneficiaries are the pedestrians who walk past and bask in the holy glow of the Chanukah lights. This is pirsumei nisa to the extreme – we share this mitzvah with the outside world, almost to the exclusion of ourselves. How are we to understand this exaggerated and amplified pirsumei nisa?

To answer this question, we must first analyze the events leading up to the Chanukah miracle. The Midrash Chanukah relates that the Greeks had imposed many harsh decrees to break the spiritual resolve of the Jewish people. The final decree is described by the Midrash as the harshest and most difficult of them all. Every Jewish bride would have to spend her wedding night with the local Greek governor before living with her husband. The Midrash relates the revulsion and horror experienced by the communities suffering with this decree. At first, people stopped marrying, but as time wore on (the decree lasted for three and a half years) people accepted these circumstances and tried to come to grips with this new reality. Until the eve of an important communal wedding; the marriage of Chana, the daughter of Matisyahu the Kohen Gadol (High Priest), to Elazar, a son of the Hasmonean family. This wedding represented a union between two of the most influential families. Scholar and simpleton, rich and poor, powerful and meek, all came together to celebrate this important union. During the wedding meal, Chana stood up, clapped her hands getting the attention of all those assembled, and proceeded to tear her dress. She cried out, “How dare you come here to celebrate, to eat, to drink, to pretend as if all is fine! Do you not realize where I must go tonight? When everyone leaves to retire to their homes, I will have to spend my wedding night with the evil and loathsome Greek governor.” The initial reaction of both families was anger and indignation at Chana’s outburst. But the truth of her words penetrated their hearts, and they understood the error of their ways. They had forgotten the pain of the women who were tormented. They had moved on, accepting the reality of the circumstances, but forgetting the hurt of those around them. They had somehow misplaced their empathy for the plight of others. It took courageous Chana to remind them not to forget the pain of those who were suffering. It took Chana to remind them that they must rise-up and try to fight this powerful enemy. It took Chana to remind them that they could no longer accept this persecuted, subjugated form of existence. The wedding of Chana and Elazar sparked the Hasmonean revolt.

Perhaps this gives us a window into the pirsumei nisa of Chanukah. When celebrating this Yom Tov, the rabbis did not want us to solely focus on the miracles of the oil and the military victory over the Greeks. They wanted us to remember the events which led to the miraculous resolution. The rabbis wanted us to remember our mistakes in the midst of celebrating our accomplishments. Therefore, when celebrating this holiday, we place our menorah outdoors. We give up the pleasure of enjoying the menorah for ourselves and for our family, and we freely give of ourselves to others; representing our feelings of connectedness to those around us. By placing our menorah outdoors, not only does the passerby have the ability to enjoy its holy light, but he can actually fulfill his obligation as well (the Shulchan Aruch explains that if one does not have the ability to light at home, one can make a beracha, a blessing, on the candles of another). We give of ourselves to benefit the other. In celebrating Chanukah in this way, we pledge to never forget the challenges and difficulties of the other.

The light of the menorah, which represents this selfless devotion to others, is different than the light of the havdalah candle. We mark the conclusion of Shabbos by lighting a flame. The flame symbolizes the fact that melacha (constructive work) which was prohibited on Shabbos is now permitted. The flame symbolizes dynamic, personal activity. The flame represents the power of personal accomplishment. We kindle the flame as a declaration, “I am going to do melacha, I am going to accomplish something great in the coming week.” 

We can now understand the tension of Motzei Shabbos Chanukah. We have the havdalah candle, which represents personal growth and dynamic activity. Yet, we also have the Chanukah lights which represent a selfless devotion to the other. Which comes first? Which is more important? Personal development or selfless commitment to others? The Mishna Berurah comments, “d’avad k’mar avad u’davad k’mar avad (you can choose to align yourself with whichever opinion you prefer).” For some, it is necessary to kindle the fire of personal development and growth, and only afterwards can they kindle the fire of devotion to the other. For some, kindling of the menorah comes first; the process of devoting oneself to the needs of others enables one to grow and to light the flame of personal accomplishment.

The order of kindling is up to each of us. However, one thing is certain. We must each kindle both holy and special flames. It is on this Motzei Shabbos that we remind ourselves that while we must ignite the flame of personal accomplishment and growth, we must always make sure to remain sensitive to the needs and circumstances of others.

May we be privileged to ignite both luminescent flames and bask in their glow for the days to come.

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Parsha Perspectives: Vayeshev-The Strength to Resist

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“Now it came to pass that since he had appointed him over his house and over all that he had, the Lord blessed the house of the Egyptian for Joseph’s sake, and the blessing of the Lord was in all that he had, in the house and in the field. So, he left all that he had in Joseph’s hand, and he knew nothing about what was with him except the bread that he ate; and Joseph had handsome features and a beautiful complexion. Now it came to pass after these events that his master’s wife lifted her eyes to Joseph, and she said, ‘Lie with me.’ But he refused, and he said to his master’s wife, ‘Behold, with me my master knows nothing about anything in the house, and all he has he has given into my hand.’” (Bereishis 7-9)

After all the trauma, Yosef found success in Egypt. He had risen through the ranks of servitude and had become the most trusted attendant in the house of Potiphar, one of the closest advisors to the Pharaoh. But Yosef was alone, no family, no nation; he was truly a stranger in a strange land. In the midst of this loneliness, a powerful woman took an interest in Yosef. The wife of Potiphar tried to seduce young Yosef, but Yosef was steadfast and resolute, refusing her advances. Yosef was then vilified and thrown into prison and his tragic saga continued.

The great Chassidic master, Rebbe Nachman of Breslov (1772-1810) writes:

“Presently, it is much easier for us to withstand our tests and temptations, for those who came before us shattered the shells (klipos) of desire. Even the simplest amongst us has the ability to withstand temptation. This is due to the spiritual heroism of earlier generations.”

Life is filled with temptation. At every turn there are opportunities for mistakes and missteps. To be successful in the journey of life we must summon the courage to overcome our illicit wants and desires, and utilize our passionate strength and ability for the accomplishment and actualization of good. Yet, at times we are faced with a burning desire to do something we know we should not. Reckless passion can cause us to go in harmful and hurtful directions. We must remember that the power to confront temptation is embedded in our spiritual DNA. When Yosef refused the advances of a married woman, he created a spiritual strength and resiliency which exists inside of each of us to this very day. It surely took all of Yosef’s courage and will to refuse this relationship. Yosef was all alone in this world and a powerful woman offered him an opportunity for connection and belonging. But he knew it was wrong and refused. This moral courage has been passed down to us. We too have the ability to stand up and say no. We have this power of Yosef and so many others throughout the generations who have exercised self-control and moral clarity. This strength is part of who we are. Rebbe Nachman explains that every time one of our ancestors “passed a test” and overcame a challenge, they bequeathed us this strength as well. We have inherited the moral strength of our ancestors and when we find the strength to overcome our negative desires and inclinations, we create new reservoirs of strength for our children and grandchildren. Every time we exercise the moral fortitude to make the right decision and avoid the negative one, we create new moral energy. When I pass a test in life, I make it a bit easier for my son and my daughter to face their demons and wage their battles.

It is our sacred duty to enjoy life, enjoy the world and partake of permitted pleasures. But when temptation appears, we must draw on the courage and moral clarity of our ancestors and exhibit the necessary strength and restraint for ourselves and our future generations.

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Parsha Perspectives: Vayishlach-Developing a Healthy Sense of Self

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You can only run for so long. At some point the reality of our circumstances catch up with us. Yaakov knew the day would come when he would have to face his brother, Esav. Would Esav be seething with anger or had he moved on?  Could Yaakov and Esav rehabilitate their relationship or would they simply go their own ways? We could only imagine that these questions were on Yaakov’s mind the night before this fateful encounter. The Torah describes that after Yaakov crossed his family over the Jordan River, he found himself all alone, “va’yivaser Yaakov l’vado”. It was at this moment that he was attacked by the ish (man), (Rashi identifies this “man” as the ministering angel of Esav). They wrestled with one another throughout the night. Yaakov was injured but managed to stand his ground and kept his adversary restrained until morning. When the sun rose, the ish requested that Yaakov release him, “And he (the angel) said, ’Let me go, for dawn is breaking,’ but he (Jacob) said, ’I will not let you go unless you have blessed me.’ So he said to him, ’What is your name?’ and he said, ’Jacob.’  And he said, ‘Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Yisrael, because you have commanding power with [an angel of] God and with men, and you have prevaile.d”’ (Genesis 32:27-29)

This exchange is perplexing on several levels. Firstly, why is the ish asking Yaakov his name? After all, the angel targeted Yaakov and they had been struggling with one another throughout the night. Secondly, it would appear that Yaakov’s name is changed twice, once in the above-mentioned verse and a second time when God appears and says: “’…your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Yisrael shall be your name.’ And He named him Yisrael.” (Genesis 35:10)  Why was the second name change necessary?

The Torah (Genesis 2:20) states that Adam named each of the animals. The Midrash (Bamidbar Rabba Chukas 19:3) relates that after Adam finished this important task, God approached him and asked, “…and you, what is your name? He (man) responded, ‘Adam, because I was created from the earth (adama).’”  Man named each of the animals based on the qualities and characteristics he perceived in them. When God asked man, “What is your name?” He was asking, “How do you perceive yourself?” And man answered, “I am from the earth.” This was not a statement of origin; it was a statement of identification. Adam identified with the earth. Adam failed to realize that the root of his name is also the same root as the Hebrew word adameh (I will resemble). Man has a choice – he can view himself as resembling the dirt or he can view himself as resembling his Maker and Creator. He can choose to identify with the earth, or he can choose to identify with the heavens. The choice is his.

A name captures the essence of an individual. When the angel asked Yaakov, “Mah sh’mecha (what is your name)?” he was asking Yaakov, “How do you view yourself?  What do you see when you look in the mirror?” Yaakov responded, “I am Yaakov. I am the one who was trampled on (the root of the name Yaakov is eykev, heel), I am the one who is always running; I am the one who is unable to face others (he runs away from home and later from Lavan to avoid conflict).”  The ish says, “Yaakov you are mistaken. Your name is no longer Yaakov, you don’t have to run, you don’t have to fear; your name is Yisrael, ki sarisa (you are a master), you have struggled but you are still standing. You have fought with both angel and man and have stood your ground. You lived in Lavan’s home, a spiritually hostile environment for over two decades and yet, you remained true to your Abrahamitic values. You wrestled an angel into submission. You don’t have to grab at anyone’s heel; you don’t have to flee in the face of adversity. You are Yisrael. Find the confidence to face your demons, find the confidence to confront your challenges, find the strength to see how much you have grown.”

The angel did not change Yaakov’s name. In fact, Rashi explains that the angelic ish was foreshadowing what would occur later when God changes Yaakov’s name to Yisrael. The ish gave Yaakov important advice. “The only way you will be successful in life is if you begin to view yourself in a different light. You have so much potential, you possess so much holiness, but your self-perception is preventing you from seeing it.”

Too often we fail to achieve, progress and grow because we have given up on ourselves, we feel unworthy. We are acutely aware of our faults and shortcomings and assume that we cannot achieve greatness. We assume we are adama and therefore, lower our expectations of ourselves. We must always remember that we are the Children of Israel; we are the people who strive for adameh. Let us find the strength to see the good, the beauty and the holiness that resides within.

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Parsha Perspectives: Vayeitzei-Finding and Forgetting

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“And Jacob awakened from his sleep, and he said, ‘Indeed, the Lord is in this place, and I did not know [it].’” (Genesis 28:16)

Yaakov Avinu experienced a most incredible dream. He had seen God perched on top of a ladder which extended to the heavens; he had seen the angels climbing up and down and had received a promise of security, safety and success from the Master of the Universe. Yaakov was not expecting such a revelation and so he awoke startled, “this is clearly a holy and special place, and I did not know.” The simple interpretation is that Yaakov was unaware of its holiness. Rashi explains that the dream took place on Mount Moriah, the site of Akeydas Yitzchak (the binding of Isaac) and the future site of the Temple. Yaakov remarks to himself, “Had I known this was such a holy and significant place, I would have never allowed myself to fall asleep here.”

The great Chassidic master, Rav Yisroel of Chortkov (1854-1934) explains Yaakov’s statement a bit differently.

“Acheyn yesh Hashem ba’makom hazeh (God is present, can be felt and experienced in this place.)”

“Va’anochi lo yadati” – I stopped focusing on anochi (myself). I did not know myself.

Yaakov ventured far away from the comforts of his familial home because he knew he had something great to accomplish. He understood that there was a magnificent destiny waiting to be seized and actualized. But it would not be easy, it would not be comfortable, it would require great sacrifice. Yaakov placed his self-interests on the backburner to maximize his life potential. Yaakov stopped focusing on anochi (myself) and instead focused his efforts on what God wanted from him. When he was able to subvert the anochi, he was able to acutely experience and feel the presence of God: “Indeed the Lord is in this place.”

Often, we experience conflict on communal and personal levels. In our communal lives, there is often a tension between what I want as an individual versus what is best for the community (whether this is the community of a Shul, school or organization). Too much strife occurs when we allow our personal interests to interfere with what is good for the collective. The only way to bring holiness into our communal lives is through “Va’anochi lo yadati,” putting our personal interests on the side and focusing on the needs of the tzibur (group). As individuals we experience this conflict as well. Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzatto (1707-1746) writes in his introduction to Mesillas Yesharim (Path of the Just) that a person must ask himself, “What does God want of me?” This is in contradistinction to the question we often ask ourselves, “What do I want out of life?” There are times when what I want for myself and what God wants from and for me are in conflict. Yaakov had this conflict as well. One would have to imagine that Yaakov would have much preferred to remain at home, build his family in the Land of Canaan and be with his parents as they grew old. But deep down, Yaakov knew that God wanted something different for him and his communal impact. Deep down Yaakov knew that destiny awaited, and it was across the river in a foreign land with hostile inhabitants. Yaakov put aside his anochi and found God.

There are times in life when the plan we have for ourselves is dramatically different than the plan God has for us. In these most humbling moments, we must find the strength to put aside the anochi of our personalistic self-interests and embrace the destiny God has waiting for us. If we can summon the strength to do so, we too will be able to say, “Acheyn yesh Hashem ba’makom hazeh” – I will feel the presence of God guiding and holding me everywhere I go and in every step I take.

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Parsha Perspectives: Toldos-Trading Places

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“Now Jacob cooked a pottage, and Esau came from the field, and he was faint. And Esau said to Jacob, ‘Pour into [me] some of this red, red [pottage], for I am faint’; he was therefore named Edom.” (Genesis 25:29-30)

Esav returned from a long day of hunting and found his brother Yaakov preparing lentils. He was overwhelmed by hunger and agreed to sell his birthright for a bowl of “pottage.” This episode is apparently so important and pivotal that it solidified Esav’s identity. “Al keyn kara shemo Edom (he Esav was therefore named Edom)” and therefore, his offspring become known as Edom (red) as well. How are we to understand this? Why is Esav’s identity forged by this episode? What is the significance of these lentils?

The Midrash (Bereishis Rabba 63:13) explains that mourners would customarily consume lentils as part of their meal during the mourning period. Rashi elaborates and explains that the roundness of the lentil represents the cycle of life, of which death is a part. Avraham had passed away. Yaakov was preparing the mourner’s meal of lentils for his father, Yitzchak. The Midrash relates that when Esav came home and saw Yaakov cooking lentils, he asked Yaakov, “’What is the meaning of this food (i.e. why are you cooking this particular item)?’ He (Yaakov) responded, ‘The Elder (Avraham) has died.’ He (Esav) responded, ‘If strict justice has been visited upon the Elder, there is no justice, there is no judge’.” 

It appears from this Midrash that Esav was outraged over Avraham’s death. Esav felt that Avraham’s righteousness and dedication to God should have allowed him to escape this final decree.

The Beis HaLevi (Rav Yosef Dov HaLevi Soloveitchik, 1820-1892) finds this Midrash difficult. Did Esav expect that his grandfather would live forever? Avraham was 175 years old and had led a good, meaningful and full life. How are we to understand Esav’s indignation over Avraham’s death?

The Beis HaLevi explains that Avraham had passed down many important ideas and ideals to his family. He shared with them his vision for spreading monotheism, love of God and respect for the other. He explained that God’s blessing would accompany them throughout life and their small family would blossom into a great and magnificent nation. But it would not be all blessing, bliss and happiness. Avraham shared with them the difficulties and turbulent times that his children and descendants would have to face and endure. He explained that God had told him how his descendants would be “strangers in a strange land and they will be worked and afflicted for four hundred years.” Avraham knew (and shared with his children) that the years ahead would be filled with much grief and challenge. Esav understood that as the first born, he stood to inherit the Abrahamitic mantle. With this mantle would come all the blessings, but he and his descendants would have to shoulder all the challenges as well. Esav did not want this burden, Esav did not want this responsibility, Esav did not want this destiny. But he couldn’t just say, “I’m not interested” as that would look cowardly and show a lack of commitment. Instead, he used Avraham’s death as a pretext to claim that there is no order or justice in this universe and therefore, he wanted no part of this tradition. Esav was willing to part with his birthright for a bowl of lentils, not out of a love for lentils or because he was famished. He was willing to give up his destiny for a bowl of lentils because he was looking for an out; he was looking for some way to escape responsibility. The death of Avraham and the bowl of lentils gave him his excuse to throw off the yoke of destiny and free himself of Abrahamitic responsibility.

Esav is known as Edom, after the redness of the lentils for which he sold his destiny. This was his fundamental flaw – he created a fictional reality that would allow him to escape responsibility.

It is normal to be overwhelmed and sometimes even frightened when taking on new responsibilities. There are times when we know what we want to do, we know what we want to be, but when we see all the work and effort it entails, when we see the potential for failure, we want to run the other way. All too often, we run from our destiny, we avoid taking responsibility and in order to justify these decisions we create alternate realities for ourselves. We tell ourselves that certain accomplishments are beyond reach, because this exempts us from trying. We tell ourselves that we cannot change, because then we feel no pressure to become more. We convince ourselves that the aspirations, goals and dreams we once held so dear aren’t really that beautiful and noble. We give up beautiful life opportunities for mere bowls of lentils. Many of us consume the lentils of life excuses at regular intervals. The lentils may fill your stomach, but they leave your soul empty and wanting.

We have an awesome responsibility as individuals and as a people to accomplish great things. Our futures are a combination of beautiful blessings and incredible challenges. If we retreat because of the challenges, we will never experience the blessing. We must remember that we are the descendants of Yaakov. We embrace the holiness, destiny and opportunities that others so quickly discard.

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Parsha Perspectives: Chayei Sarah-Wise Waters

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Finding a suitable marriage partner has always been a challenge. To find a partner whom you could love, cherish and build a life with is no small task. To find someone who shares your ideals and beliefs can be challenging. For Yitzchak the challenge was compounded in that he was surrounded by idolaters. Avraham and Sarah began their journey together. They found God and grew together. Yitzchak, their physical and spiritual progeny would have to find someone who would help him continue to build what his parents had started. Avraham tasked Eliezer with finding a wife for Yitzchak and sent him back to Avraham’s ancestral homeland.  Avraham provided explicit instructions on the parameters – the young woman must come from his extended family. Eliezer set out, arrived in Aram Naharaim and devised the following plan:

And he said, “O Lord, the God of my master Abraham, please cause to happen to me today, and perform loving kindness with my master, Abraham. Behold, I am standing by the water fountain, and the daughters of the people of the city are coming out to draw water. And it will be, [that] the maiden to whom I will say, ‘Lower your pitcher and I will drink,’ and she will say, ‘Drink, and I will also water your camels,’ her have You designated for Your servant, for Isaac, and through her may I know that You have performed loving kindness with my master.” (Bereishis 24:12-14)

Although Avraham never told Eliezer what qualities to look for, Eliezer intuitively understood that the next matriarch must possesses the attribute of chessed, kindness. If she is so kind that she responds to the request of a stranger for a drink and then offers to water the entire flock of camels – she is indeed righteous and kind enough to be the wife of Yitzchak and join the Abrahamitic dynasty.

We know that chessed is exceptionally important.  As the Mishna states:

The world stands on the three things, on Torah, on Avoda (sacrificial service and prayer) and on Gemilus Chasadim (kindness and the performance of charitable acts).” (Ethics of our Father 1:2)

Chessed is one of the pillars which supports the world and humanity. But would this value of chessed require a young woman to water a flock of camels? Let’s assume Eliezer brought with him at least 3 camels. A camel can drink up to 20 gallons at a time, that would be 60 gallons. This would have required Rivkah to run back and forth to the well multiple times – was this a fair expectation? Even in the realm of chessed we find limitations. We are obligated to be charitable, yet, one is not permitted to give away more than 1/5 of one’s wealth for fear of impoverishing one’s self. There are limitations even on kindness.  Furthermore, the text never records that Rivkah performed this incredibly selfless act of watering the flock. How are we to understand this strange “test” devised by Eliezer?

The Beis HaLevi (Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik 1820-1892) explains that Eliezer was not only looking for a Baalas Chessed, he was looking for someone who would perform chessed with wisdom. In life, it is not enough to the do the right thing – one must do the right thing in the right way. When Eliezer went up to Rivka and asked her for a drink, he wanted to see what she would do with the remaining water in the jug. To take the rest of the water home to her family would be irresponsible (after all she did not know the identity of this stranger) but to spill out the remaining water would be an affront to this stranger. How did Rivka manage this situation? After she offered Eliezer to drink, she then offered the remainder of the water to his camels (she did not offer to water the entire flock – just to provide the camels with the remaining water in the jug). This was the “test” devised by Eliezer and it was this test that Rivkah passed with flying colors. Rivkah knew how to do Chessed with Chochma (kindness with wisdom).

There are times when we try to help another but forget to be sensitive to the needs of the other. Chessed doesn’t simply mean the performance of good deeds – rather, it means the performance of good deeds in a sensitive fashion. There are times when people need help but feel awkward accepting it. There are times when people need assistance but can’t ask for it and sometimes can’t acknowledge it when it is received.

People are complex, we are complex and when helping another we must think not only of the act of chessed but how the act can be packaged in order to preserve the dignity of self-respect of the other.

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